


Manna

by JennaSinclair



Series: Sharing the Sunlight (STS) [11]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaSinclair/pseuds/JennaSinclair
Summary: One hundred days before the end of the five year mission, Spock joins Kirk to toast their success.





	Manna

**Author's Note:**

> "Manna" is the eleventh entry in my Sharing the Sunlight series. Each work was written so that a reader could catch up with what is going on if they haven’t read the previous stories, but of course you’ll get a bit more if you read the series in order. I use the name Jenna Sinclair for this K/S series. I use Jenna Hilary Sinclair for all other fanfiction and my professional work.
> 
> Here's the series in chronological order:  
> 1\. Sharing the Sunlight (novel)  
> 2\. Reflections on a Lunar Landscape  
> 3\. Pursuing Hyacinths (novella)  
> 4\. Heart’s Delight (novella)  
> 5\. Primal Scream  
> 6\. Parallel Courses  
> 7\. Double Trouble  
> 8\. Son of Sarek (novella)  
> 9\. Promises to Keep (novel)  
> 10\. Jagged Edges  
> 11\. Manna  
> 12\. Journey’s End  
> 13\. One Night  
> 14\. In the Shade (novel)  
> All stories and novels in the Sharing the Sunlight series will be posted to Archive of Our Own.

"Mister Spock," said the baby-faced technician breathlessly keeping pace with the first officer, "I'm sure you'll find everything in order in my section. You never know when an emergency will strike in the middle of space, and I wouldn't want to let my shipmates down because I haven't done my job. The _Columbia_ is in perfect condition and ready for take-off."

"That, Mister Crawford," Spock said without glancing at the young man, "is what this inspection will determine, is it not?"

"Yes, sir." By now the young man was almost skipping as he attempted to match the Vulcan's long stride. "I know you won't be disappointed. And I also wanted to say, sir, what a pleasure it has been serving with you on the _Enterprise_. And to let you know that I don't believe a word of the rumor about you and Captain Kirk." 

Spock stopped his progress across the cavernous hold that housed the _Enterprise's_ shuttles. For the first time since the technician had scurried out to accompany him on this presumably surprise inspection, Spock looked him full in the face. Superimposed on the man's dark red hair and earnest countenance was the glowing computer record of Crawford's last quarterly evaluation: _A competent technician whose occasional lack of judgment appears to be caused by over-eagerness to please his superiors. Experience and maturity should correct these deficiencies._

It did not appear that maturity yet had Crawford in its grip.

Spock looked down his nose at the much shorter human and intoned, "Indeed?" 

Crawford had a distressingly prominent Adam's apple. It bobbed as he swallowed convulsively. "Yes, sir. I don't know how these rumors get started but it doesn't take a genius to know it's not true. I think much too highly of you and the captain to believe that you would.… What I mean to say, sir, is that...that.… You and the captain, sir, you're both completely normal people, sir!"

Spock easily restrained the impulse to express amusement. The captain in whose normality Crawford believed so firmly would laugh for them both when he was told of this incident. "It is gratifying that you think so. Shall we proceed?"

Their footsteps echoed through the hanger as they approached the shuttles. Two were in launching position, the others docked along the walls. He would check on the force field restraining them first. 

But before he could do anything other than to see that the field was glowing, Technician first class Olazabel called. "Mister Spock? You're wanted on the intercom, sir."

Crawford trailed him as he walked to the com unit. "Spock here."

"Mister Spock." Unmistakably, it was the captain. Crawford snapped to attention. "I understand you're in the shuttle bay."

Spock eyed the grid with sudden misgiving. He had thought that the captain was in his quarters indulging in a "bull session" with McCoy and Scott, but apparently not. Although he could hope that to anyone listening Kirk's voice sounded as it always did, Spock detected a slight lilt, an atypical rhythm that often meant the captain was in a playful mood. He replied cautiously, "Yes, sir. I am." 

"Could you get away for a few minutes? There's...uh...there's something going on that I need to discuss with you." The smile in each word was obvious to Spock's hyper-sensitive ears. 

He kept his voice as inflectionless as possible. There was no need to encourage Kirk in whatever game he was playing over the public intercom. "If you require my presence the inspection can be postponed."

"Good. Give the techs down there a break and surprise them some other day. I'll see you in my quarters."

"Very well, sir. Spock out."

Crawford's eyes were full of questions, none of which the first officer felt inclined to answer. Spock said, "Carry on," and walked to the lift.

The turbo was unoccupied and took one minute, thirty-one seconds to maneuver its way from the rear of the engineering hull to deck five in the saucer section. That was not nearly enough time for Spock to conclude his speculations on why the captain would so blatantly call him away from ship's business, even unscheduled and not-strictly-necessary ship's business, for no stated reason. He thought too highly of his captain's professionalism to entertain the possibility that he had been summoned to a sexual assignation. 

Sooner than he had expected to visit his captain tonight, he was standing before Kirk's door. Spock tugged at the hem of his tunic and became aware of the sound of laughter and multiple conversations within. 

He could not control the reflexive effort to tighten his mental shields at the prospect of entering a room crowded with exuberant emotional beings, and as always there was a moment of shock as he realized once again that his shields were inoperative. They were also unnecessary. What need was there to protect what had been already destroyed? 

He blinked as he worked to dissipate strong emotion. As he had done eighty-seven times since the attack six months ago that had robbed him of his Vulcan psychic powers, Spock set aside his emotional response to his loss. There was no logic in dwelling on the negative. What is, is. _Cor yhr mor._

He pressed the buzzer, the door slid open, and it was McCoy who pulled him inside the crowded room. "Here he is! Now we can really get started!" 

The doctor thrust a glass into Spock's hand, and he automatically tightened his fingers around it while attempting to assess the situation into which he'd been drawn. 

There were ten, no, eleven people inside the captain's quarters, straining it to capacity. Besides McCoy, there was Kirk across the room, leaning against the desk with his arms folded and regarding him with a glint of fond amusement. Mister Scott was in the right far corner of the room, making a final point as he jabbed the chest of his arch-enemy and drinking companion, maintenance chief Fraser, before turning towards the door with a relieved expression on his face. Ms. Uhura was seated at the table the captain commonly used for playing chess. Across from her were Sulu and Chekov, and all three of them smiled at him. 

Lieutenant Josephs of security stood alone in the doorway that separated office from bedroom; he glanced up at Spock and just as quickly returned to a contemplation of the deck. Newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Tu nodded with his typical aplomb. And finally, Lieutenants Dawson and Hunyady stood from where they'd been seated on the built-in settee and regarded him with an air of suppressed excitement. 

They were all clutching glasses filled with, presumably, alcoholic beverages, and they were all looking at him. 

Spock resorted to his programmed defense. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Am I interrupting?"

McCoy threw an arm around his shoulders and exclaimed, "Interrupting? Hell, no! What does this look like, Spock? This is a celebration! And you're definitely invited."

Before Spock could move out from under the careless embrace, or even skewer McCoy with a look, Kirk crossed the room, a matter of only a few steps, and pointedly removed the affectionate arm from Spock's shoulder. "Let's not get carried away here, Bones." He turned to everyone else. "As a matter of fact, we've all gotten carried away. Isn't anyone superstitious? You shouldn't celebrate anything before the fact, and we've still got one hundred days--."

He was drowned out by a chorus of protest. He turned back to his second-in-command with a smile and shrugged. "What can I do? I'm outnumbered."

Scotty stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Aye, that ye are. And now that Mister Spock's here, 'tis time for a toast." He raised his glass, as did everyone else in the room except the two commanding officers. Spock held his drink at waist level, until he discovered what it was that the humans were toasting.

"To Captain James Kirk, the only captain to bring his ship home intact from a five year mission. I've been here for every day of the trip, and God b'willing I'll be there at the end, and I still have nae idea how he finagled us out of some of our scrapes. But the _Enterprise'll_ be as lovely a lady in orbit over Earth as she was five years ago, and we have one man to thank for it. To the Captain!"

To the chorus of "To the Captain" everyone drank. Spock looked at his commanding officer, at the way Kirk stood almost at attention, his expression solemn as he received the just accolades of his officers. Kirk did not appear to be so very different from the unknown man who had first stepped aboard the _Enterprise_ so long ago, and yet now Spock knew him. Knew his courage and his intelligence, his lust for life and his capacity for love. Knew his body. At one time, Spock had known his mind as well, and he remembered it now, golden and pulsing with integrity. The memory was not one he allowed himself often; dwelling on what was lost and so much desired did not aid in his daily struggle to accept his condition. But this was a special occasion, for the humans, for Kirk. This was a tribute to the man who gave comfort and love and understanding in equal measures....

Yes, he could drink this toast. _To the Captain._ Spock raised the goblet to his lips and thought of the forty-eight times he had merged his mind with his captain's in orgiastic pleasure and a mental fulfillment so great, no words could describe the experience....

He discovered that his glass held an effervescent Terran wine, and that he had to work to swallow past the tightness of his throat. What is, is.

Kirk stepped forward. "Thank you all. But I know that I'm just one part of what has kept us going, what's made us so successful. I'm proud of bringing the _Enterprise_ home just the way she was entrusted to us --."

"-- Nay, better!" Scotty growled.

"Better," Kirk agreed over laughter. "Definitely better. But it's not just me. I had the best ship, the best officers, and the best crew in Starfleet." He raised his goblet high. "To the officers and crew of the _Enterprise_."

Everyone drank again, although Spock allowed himself just a small sip. This social gathering had been ongoing for some time, and yet the all-important toast had been delayed until he had been summoned and appeared. For Kirk? Because he was the captain's intimate partner and everyone here knew it? Or for himself, because.… For reasons unfathomable. He remembered the smiles that had greeted his entrance. Spock swallowed; the wine was sweet, and produced a pleasant, tingling sensation in his throat and chest. 

Kirk didn't allow anyone else to launch into another toast. "And I want you all to know that I think this little party is just an excuse to drink up my liquor supply, which isn't exactly extensive to begin with. So enjoy what I've got, but remember the ship still has a ways to go. We'll have another chance to celebrate at the _real_ end of mission."

He turned to his first officer, obviously concluding the public portion of his speech,  
and the murmur of conversation in the room began again. Spock summoned an accusing look to direct at his captain.

Kirk spread his hands in amused defense. "Well, would you have come if I'd told you that a party had sprung up in my quarters and the natives demanded your presence?"

Spock did not dignify that rhetorical question with a reply. "I presume there has been a communication from Starfleet?"

"Uh-huh. Though it took five days to reach us out here in the middle of nowhere. We're ordered back on Stardate 7348. Didn't take long to figure that was in exactly one hundred days." 

McCoy chimed in, "And Scotty and yours truly decided the occasion deserved a party, so here we are. Aren't you glad you were invited?" 

Spock favored him with a bland look. "It appears that someone must monitor your level of intoxicant consumption."

"I don't think you're the man for the job, ol' Spock-boy." McCoy walked away with his almost-empty glass towards the bottles on the desk.

"I wouldn't want to be the one who tried," commented Kirk. "So, everything okay in the shuttle bay?"

"Affirmative. Although my inspection was not extensive. I will continue it tomorrow during alpha shift."

Kirk pursed his lips and shook his head. "Nooo, I don't think so."

"Indeed?"

The captain laughed. "I knew you'd say that. Indeed not. I think you'll be busy tomorrow."

The ship was traveling through a particularly uninspiring area of space and there was nothing scheduled beyond the routine. Spock simply looked at him and waited.

Kirk sipped his drink and surveyed him through a fringe of eyelashes. It was a lengthy perusal, and Spock could not prevent the sudden acceleration of the heart beating in his side. How could his lover conduct an entire conversation only with his sparking eyes? Kirk said  
_You are incredibly attractive and there's no one else in this room I'd rather be looking at_  
and  
_Thanks for staying at this little get-together. I know it's not always your preference_  
and  
_Let's make love tonight_  
and  
_Wouldn't you like to know what my little secret is?_  
all within the space of five dranaths and two indrawn breaths. 

It was an astonishingly provocative display of human sexuality, and Spock had seen it many times before in this same room, but never with so many potential witnesses. The presence of others added a dangerous flavor to the private by-play. Although he and Kirk had made no effort to hide their relationship for several months, neither had they ever flaunted it, as it seemed to Spock they were now. Spock was not accustomed to these quarters, a haven for their intimate lives, being filled with people. This was where they undressed each other, this was where he occasionally smiled and had even wept. Here, just within the doorway, was where they had first kissed. 

People might be looking at him and Kirk even now, seeing the way their bodies were turned towards one other, how their gazes were locked, seeing Jim's provocative smile and his own fascination with it. Even Technician Crawford would have no difficulty interpreting the evidence before him. 

_Cor yhr mor._ What is, is. Kirk was his t'hy'la, although no formal declarations bound them. It was common knowledge among the officers and crew with whom he came in regular contact, he was not ashamed, and only a stone could resist Kirk in this mood. And since he had begun to share his bed with his captain, Spock had ceased being a stone. 

However, he was still a Vulcan. His people did not produce public emotional displays, not even with their bondmates. 

Spock took a step back and the sexual content of the silent conversation disappeared as if it had never been. "Will you tell me what will be occupying my time tomorrow?"

Kirk tilted his head and smiled a devastating smile, looking not at all like a strong military officer who had overcome the odds and was about to bring his ship safely back to port. "Welllll, I guess it would be cruel not to. You know that little blip of purple light that you and your science staff were so excited about six months ago? The one we didn't have the time to investigate because there were so many planets in this sector and Starfleet had only given us ten months to explore and make contacts?"

Spock's entire attention riveted on his captain. "Yes."

Kirk rocked from toes to heels, borrowing one of his CMO's favorite irritating mannerisms. The mischief on his face, however, was pure Kirk. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you think that object might have been a Graves gravitational mass, the hot scientific topic of the decade. It's what you and your staff have been writing about in the science journals for the past two years. Right?"

"Correct. A GGM has been theorized, but never actually observed." 

"But you do have a...," Kirk shrugged elaborately, "…small desire to observe it, right?"

Enough. "Captain, do you intend to change ship's course so that we may investigate the possible GGM?"

Kirk shook his head, quickly, like a wet terrier. "No. I don't." He paused to survey Spock's face, which the first officer was valiantly schooling not to show any emotion at all, then said, "Because I've already ordered the course change." Grinning, Kirk sipped his drink. 

"I do not know," Spock told the air over his captain's left shoulder, "why I am continually subjected to nonsensical pranks most commonly performed by adolescent humans of questionable intelligence."

A hand clapped him on the back. It was McCoy, fortified with more alcohol. "Because we just can't resist the target, that's why." 

Spock deftly stepped to the side to remove the physical contact and addressed Kirk. "What is our estimated ETA, and why have you made this decision?"

"Whatever you're talking about, he's excited," McCoy informed the captain. "That's two questions at once. Not like our logical Vulcan."

"Ahh, shut up, Bones." Then, "You've got two days to get your department prepared, plenty of time. And why?" Kirk smiled a small self-deprecating smile; there was no amusement in his eyes. "Because we've got a hundred days left. That's all. One hundred days and then…into drydock. Shut down the warp coils, recycle the air, transfer all the people. I wanted to make sure one of our last contributions was…scientifically significant. Peaceful."

There was a moment of strained silence before McCoy's suddenly sober voice said, "Hey, anything's better than tangling with the Klingons again. Peaceful is all right by me. Right, Spock?" 

"Indeed. I --" 

But McCoy prevented him from saying anything else. "Look, here's Penda come with a question. Hello there, pretty lady." 

McCoy snagged Uhura's arm and pulled her within their group. She looked startled, but the lieutenant wasn't considered one of Starfleet's most promising officers without reason. 

"Yes, of course I have a question. Mister Spock," a hand settled lightly on his forearm, "I was wondering if you would play something for us on your lyre. It wouldn't be a party without your music."

There was no way to demur, especially when Kirk suddenly laughed, then without hesitation went through the shared bathroom to the first officer's quarters to retrieve the Vulcan instrument. Spock sat before the desk, the assembled officers arranged themselves in a half-circle about him, and he played Horralin's "Two Moons Sonata," a piece whose rampant emotionalism was particularly accessible to humans. There was a moment of silence as the last delicate note drifted through the air, and then applause. He acknowledged it with a restrained nod that he was sure masked his pleasure, and allowed himself one swift glance at Kirk. The captain had abandoned his melancholy air; his eyes were alight with pride he made no effort to hide. 

The evening passed swiftly. He engaged in a wildly unlikely conversation with Uhura and Engineer Scott that centered on finding a piece of music compatible with a Vulcan lyre, the bagpipes, and a human soprano voice. He was called upon to provide an opinion during a passionate discussion between Dawson and Scott on the best way to drain coolant without taking warp engines off line. And no one objected when, later in the evening, Spock and Hunyady appropriated the captain's desk computer to plan the examination of the GGM. While they were working she brought him a cup of Catallan half-berry tea.

Spock had just completed a schedule that would have all members of his department prepared in two days for the survey when the social gathering began to disperse. 

McCoy lurched to his feet from where he'd been enjoying a téte-a-téte with Uhura and announced, "Okay, boys and girls, time to go home. Sickbay won't be open in the morning for any malingerers." He turned to his host, who not coincidentally was standing by the door. "Good-night, Jim." He turned, blinked owlishly until he also located Spock seated at the desk. "Oh, there you are. Good-night, Spock. You two sleep tight."

"'Night, Bones."

Spock moved to stand by his captain. "Good-evening, Doctor McCoy."

"Aye." Scott was right behind the doctor. "And dooon't let the bed-bugs bite, as my dear mother says."

One by one the people left, until finally the door closed behind Sulu, the last guest. 

Kirk stood, hands on hips, and shook his head as he surveyed the wreckage of his cabin. Cups and glasses littered most surfaces. "What a mess. I didn't know I ran such a sloppy ship."

"Indeed, it is difficult to understand why such a gathering should be so untidy, given starfleet-trained personnel." Spock picked up a bottle of Aldebaran brandy from the chess table, capped it and placed it on the desk with the rest of the liquor. 

Kirk yawned. "Well, I'm not cleaning it up right now, and I don't want you to either. Let's leave all this for my yeoman tomorrow and sleep in your bed tonight. Unless," the captain turned with a question in his eyes, "you intend to abandon me for the GGM?"

There was much to be done to prepare for the examination of that stellar phenomenon, but Spock no longer felt the need to seek refuge from his human crew mates in the labs. And especially, not from Jim. He remembered the look they had exchanged earlier, full of promise. 

He held out his hand; Kirk took it and smiled. 

"No, Jim, I do not intend to abandon you." 

*************************

"Oh, God, you're so tight!" 

Kirk slowly pushed his penis another two centimeters into Spock's upraised ass and panted noisily. Spock clenched his muscles to define the bulk within and muffled his groan in the pillow.

"Don't do that! You'll…make…me…come. Oh, God, I can't help it." Kirk pulled back and thrust forward, hard, driving in more than half the length of his cock. Then again, even further. Spock felt a small cramp as the cock forced its way deeper into the upper reaches of his still constricted anal channel. He could not command those muscles to relax as he had been able to before. But it did not matter, the pain was minor compared to this…this….

His t'hy'la was mounted above him, Jim's sexual organ possessed him. The flurry of thrusts pushing into him, rocking his body back and forth was one of the most indefinable, positive sensations Spock had ever known. He raised his head from the pillow and straightened his arms so that he was on all fours before his captain. He arched his back to change the angle of penetration and the discomfort disappeared. All he could feel was energy and warmth and living flesh where before there had been empty space. Pleasure…. There was such pleasure in this.

Kirk's hand snaked beneath his body; cool fingers wrapped around Spock's aching penis and Spock sucked in air between his teeth. 

"Jim!" he said breathily. He did not recognize his own voice, but it was part of the new-life Spock. This was how he sounded when his captain pushed the penile skin over the lower of his two flared ridges, his hand a steadily working piston, when nothing mattered except the heavy weight over him and the hand that commanded him. He shoved his hips into the new stimulation, felt the penis follow him forward and then the soft warmth of testicles against his spread cheeks. Now his body fully enclosed Jim's penis.

Breath gusted in his ear. "Tell me how that feels, love,"

Impossible. Words fled before the rising wave of his passion. He stared down at the white pillow but saw how the two of them must look, mating. The fire in his belly flared brighter.

The hand worked faster. "Tell me." Insistent. Lips sucked on his shoulder blade. 

It was so difficult to speak. The universe was all physical: pushing forward into the fingers around his penis, rocking back to meet the short, jack-hammer thrusts that pounded into him, motion and sparking joy pulled up from the flesh. Nothing else mattered. 

"Jim," Spock managed. "I am…aroused." He drew in a deep breath. "The sensations…. Good." 

"How aroused? What do you want?"

He wanted to lose himself in the moment, he wanted to know this delight over and over again, he wanted to ride the swelling tide of orgasm to the heights of the L-langon mountains and to shout of this glory to all of Vulcan as he threw himself down into Jim's arms….

"Jim," he gasped. "Come in me."

Kirk groaned, a deep, lusty, from-the-chest sexual sound. "Yes," he said, his voice a strained whisper as he abandoned his hold on Spock's penis and straightened on his knees. He grabbed the bony hips for leverage and thrust deeply. 

Yes! Spock pushed back to meet every piercing lunge, his own need for completion submerged in the desire to give this gift of the flesh. His heart beat madly in his side, he labored to breathe, heard Kirk's noisy pantings and found them intensely erotic. 

Yes! He clenched his anal muscles around the penis, Kirk moaned, "Oh, I'm close, so close," Spock closed his eyes and thought My mind to your mind, I remember how this felt when we were together in one mind but I cannot give you the meld now so take my body, oh, please, Jim, it is all I have left to give, take my body and achieve orgasm within me, it is so much more than satisfactory....

"Yes! Here it is. Here!" Kirk shoved in a mighty thrust and quivered. Warmth flooded him, and he dropped his chin to his chest and groaned. So good. Another thrust and grunt, another. Wet. His body was wet with Jim's semen and the millions of sperm cells that would flicker madly, climbing his intestinal tract before being absorbed by his tissues and blood, becoming a part of him.

A final half-hearted thrust, and the loss of tension in the body against him suddenly accented his own arousal. His penis arrowed down to the bed, stiff and heavy. His ridges were flared to their widest extent, aching to be touched and --.

"Stay there," Kirk panted, and a moment later the bulk that stretched and defined Spock's lower body pulled away. He shivered in reaction and that made his penis throb. He required stimulation! He would --.

Then Kirk flipped over onto his back between Spock's spread legs and pushed up against the bed clothes. Spock looked through his stiffened arms to the upside-down view of his captain's lips just centimeters from the tip of his organ.

"Come here," Kirk whispered, addressing the penis, and reached up to guide it into his mouth. 

"Wait." He shifted back and down until he sat balanced on the broad chest, and he could easily see everything he wanted to see: his own organ brought to a perfect angle before the slick, labial surfaces, the wanton eagerness in his lover's face. Then Kirk licked his lips, the deliberate movement of his tongue an invitation and a tease. Spock shoved his hips forward and forced his penis into Jim's welcoming mouth. 

His heart jumped and he struggled to draw breath. This was…fullness of life. No other sensation could compare to this enfolding rapture, this cool/hot darting of sparks along his quivering ridges. His chest was stiff. His thighs trembled as he restrained the instinct to thrust and denied his building orgasm. He wanted to make this pleasure last another hundred dranaths. At least another fifty dranaths. 

He looked at his captain sucking his most intimate part. 

Jim's lips covered the ridges, pursed there and fluttered, then moved down almost to the base, red lips wet, slurping, producing noises that were obscene and sexual and forever desired. One hand held the penis steady within a circle of thumb and forefinger, the other fingers extended so they hefted Spock's steadily tightening testicles. 

Spock panted noisily. This was incomparable. There was lightning in his penis, tightening ecstasy beneath, an ache to be touched in the small of his back. The physical sensations were....

His lover looked up and met his gaze. 

Jim. Commander of the _Enterprise_. Lauded by strangers and his crew alike. Here, in Spock's bed. Sucking him and looking at him with that most treasured of all emotions.

It was impossible to remain still. Orgasm roiled in his testicles. It forced Spock to rock back and forth, he watched as he forced his penis in through the moist lips, out. In, out.

"Touch me," Spock growled. He grabbed Kirk's free hand and whipped it around to his back, flattened it against his _chenesi_ just below his waist. "Touch me here." 

Kirk's eyes sparked, he grunted, and scratched his fingernails against the skin covering the internal Vulcan testicles. Spock gasped and could not control a wild hunch forward that buried his penis and stretched his captain's cheeks. 

"I will...." He had no breath for more, thrust again mightily as Jim laved him with his tongue. Climax was just a moment away. A moment....

And then there was pressure against Spock's sphincter. A finger, no, two fingers, perhaps more, abandoned his testicles, slid up and then into the dark moistness where Jim had been before. 

His penis in Jim's mouth, his _chenesi_ aflame with loving touch, his body spitted upon his captain's hand....

Spock lifted his face to the ceiling and abandoned himself to new, spurting life. "Uunnhhh. Unnhhh. Ahhh."

Orgasm was like life; a current that flowed and ever changed, and could never be completely controlled. Each climax with Jim was different, and each one eluded Spock's efforts to make it last. The final pulse of pleasure faded away.

He collapsed onto his left side, and was only slightly surprised to look down and see that Kirk had followed his movement and now lay curled up with the softening penis still in his mouth. Spock reached down and tangled his fingers in his captain's disordered honey locks, closed his eyes and surrendered to post-coital lassitude. 

The only psychic ability that Spock did retain could not be turned off, not even during precious moments of peace. Two minutes passed and he allowed himself the rare experience of thinking of nothing but the passing of the seconds. Three minutes, four minutes elapsed. He knew a familiar creeping depression, pushed it away. No. Not tonight.

Kirk released the slackened penis, placed a hand on Spock's hip, but otherwise did not move. The human touch was cool now, not warm as it had been when they were both in the midst of sexual excitement. Spock looked down at the tawny head, shifted forward, pressed his captain's forehead against his stomach. He felt breath against his skin. Incomparable.

 _So much,_ a voice whispered. _You have so much._

 _So much,_ a different voice intruded. _You have lost so much._

Spock breathed deeply. His fingers, protected and hidden within his lover's hair, curved into the meld position. 

After six minutes and nine seconds, Kirk moved up to rest upon the pillow. He smelled of salt and seminal emission, and he was smiling a contented smile.

"Love you," he murmured, and pressed a kiss against Spock's lips.

Yes. _Yes._ Always. 

Spock wrapped his arms around his infinitely attractive, infinitely desirable lover, slowly rolled them over until he was stretched out upon his captain. He felt the steady rise and fall of Kirk's respirations, the sweat-tacky skin that adhered to his Vulcan-drier body, he looked down into soft eyes that still sent their message of love.

Jim loved him. 

How could this gift be repaid? All the support over the last months, Kirk's steady conviction that Spock would recover, no matter what the odds or how long it took, the acceptance of _him,_ Spock, without the bond, without the meld, Spock-the-crippled-Vulcan, Spock who was no longer the best first officer in the fleet, whose efficiency rating had dropped from 97 to 92 points.

He stroked his fingertips against the soft skin of Kirk's cheek. "I would give to you...," his voice was very deep, "everything that you desire." The meld. A whole and healthy companion. A five year mission that lasted forever.

Kirk's strong, capable fingers rested over Spock's longer, stronger ones, and pressed them against his face. "I don't need anything. I've got you and I've got the _Enterprise_. What more do I need?"

A lie, lovingly told. And Jim would only have the _Enterprise_ for a few more months. 

But he would have Spock…forever. Someday Spock would recover all his psychic abilities, and on that day a complete and healthy Vulcan would reach out and join the mind that he yearned to touch, the mind that quivered to touch him. There was a…possibility…that it would happen. And if he and Jim re-achieved the bond, then.… The mystics said that a deep, true joining lasted beyond mortal existence. 

And if he did not recover? Spock would not leave his captain.

He looked down into the face so close to his, at the droplets of perspiration on the tips of his human's preposterously long eyelashes, at the flush that lingered on the soft, perfect skin. Jim was…beautiful. He did not embody the classic Vulcan concept of the masculine ideal -- tall, lean, sharply boned -- but Spock now defined beauty in a different way than he had before. Beauty was…anything that reminded him of Jim. 

Courage was beautiful. Maturity was comely. Laughter was inexplicably magnificent. The light that combined them all, that resided in his t'hy'la's eyes, was attractive beyond his ability to withstand. 

He allowed some of the emotion he harbored for this man in his arms to curve his lips into a small smile. "Indeed, what more do you need?" 

What more did _he_ need? He had the steadfast love of the most renowned commander in Starfleet, and he resided within the comfort of a community of friends. There were Uhura and McCoy. Both of them touched him frequently now, conveying support with that most elemental of senses. There was Hunyady, who seemed obsessed with his nutritional requirements and brought him food or drink whenever she worked with him, and Scott, who engaged him in technical discussions more often since the attack, and others. 

The average Vulcan would find such emotionally intrusive actions most distasteful. But Spock was not an average Vulcan. He had no psychic abilities other than his time sense, and he had human friends. And a human lover. 

He had hope, and lies lovingly told. 

This night, the ship cocooned them. The last difficult one hundred days would come, and Spock would be there when he was needed. He would not speak tonight of what he and Jim knew was to be, of pain-to-come. Sufficient unto the day…

The quiet beauty of this evening, body and heart, would sustain them.

He kissed Kirk, his own lips warm against cool lips that were moist and life-giving, then slid back to his side of the bed. He picked up his nightshirt from the floor, shrugged into it, then pulled the blankets up to his chest. The captain reached for the disposable wipes on the nightstand, cleaned himself off, shoved the blankets onto Spock, then curled onto his side. 

Spock turned his head until their gazes met. "Computer, lights down to sleep level. Good-night, Jim."

"Good-night, Spock. Sleep tight." 

He closed his eyes. Yes. He would sleep a peaceful sleep.

And tomorrow, just for the pleasure of seeing his captain shake his head and look amused, he would take the time away from the GGM preparation and complete the shuttle bay inspection. Technician Crawford was surely expecting him. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> "Manna" was first published in Heroes in the Wilderness from Village Press. Many thanks to Eva Stuart for editing help.


End file.
